


Seven Nation Army

by kalelle



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU, Mission Impossible, Spy thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 01:49:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalelle/pseuds/kalelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avengers/Mission Impossible AU. Thor Odinson is IMF's best agent. He is pulled from a shallow cover job as new intel comes to light suggesting that Loki Laufeyson, the son of a known arms dealer, has stolen his fathers mobile phone, and with it, the contact information of a large host of unsavoury characters. Thor and his team must retrieve the phone and keep Loki out of the cross hairs of anyone who would see him dead, while racing against an even bigger threat that comes to light with the contents of the phone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Nation Army

The town wasn't anything special. It wasn't a tourist trap, or defined by anything other than the hard working folk who lived there. They had a mill, and a railway, and the kind of shops that kept the town running, trucks bringing goods in through one of the two major roads. It was the kind of town that when the lights went down, most people were either found at home or at one of the small handful of local dives where the working men went to have a brew with the boys before going home. 

There wasn't much foot traffic, and the man's heavy tread echoed against the glass of the storefronts. He was an average bloke, dirty from a day at the tracks, hands shoved in the pockets of his beat up jacket, dark hair hanging down around face. He wore the tired look of a man who had once wanted to leave the town. He garnered not a second glance, the town full of men leaving their youth behind to settle in to the brick and mortar framework of the town. 

He shouldered his way into Jim's, the only place in town with billiard tables and German beer on tap. The place was a long, low room, with wood floors and ceiling, and load bearing pillars dotted throughout. There was a little more than half a dozen of the green topped tables, and booths around the perimeter and pushed at the back. The radio was a bit scratchy, and played the same music it likely did in 1987, though no one seemed to mind. The man nodded a head in greeting to a few people, and made his way to his customary booth in the far left corner. But when he arrived at his table, he found someone already there. 

The other man looked a little higher class than this establishment usually housed, maybe a foreman or a regional railway manager, waiting to catch the next train back to the city. He wasn't anything special to look at, with a kind face pulled a little taut at the edges as though he carried a lot of stress. He was just as much a nobody as dirty working man who sat down across from him. Tucked back in the corner as they were, no one could hear them speak, or see their faces. No on could see the exchange of a flash drive, or the files in the kind man's face, no one could see the Beretta M9 concealed under his wool jacket. 

“Coulson.” the dirty man greeted, his voice pitched low. He looked of European descent under the grime of a long day, his voice coloured by more than one accent, speaking to a life abroad. Never anywhere long enough to set down roots. 

“Agent Odinson.” Coulson spoke lightly, amiably. His hands rested on the table, and despite a professional outwards appearance, he seemed truly pleased to see the other man. “You're being pulled from this assignment. Something has come up.” 

“After this long under cover? Must be big.” It hadn't been a particularly deep cover. He had been working the tracks for close to four months, working on a potential weapons shipping bust. The agency had gotten word that someone was using the back lines to transport shipments of guns, but in his time there, he had heard no such whispers and found even less. Though he wasn't quite ready to mark off the past quarter of a year as a waste of time, the prospect of something juicy had his blood picking up speed. 

“There's been a development with a person of interest.” Coulson cast a wary eye around, confirming that they were going to be left alone before resuming. “As you know, the IMF has been tracking Farbauti Laufeyson, informally known as 'Laufey' by most. Laufey is, essentially, the switchboard operator for all international aggressors and arms dealers. He connects buyers and sellers, and he knows who is who and an uncomfortable amount of people owe him a favour. The man lives in what is essentially a guarded fortress, and keeps his floor so clean that not a footprint can be found. He's untouchable both physically and legally.” 

“They don't call us the Impossible Missions Force for nothing.” Odinson cut in. 

Coulson went on as though he wasn't interrupted. “The lynch pin to Laufey's entire network is a highly encoded and guarded mobile phone. There are more secrets and skeletons in that phone than there are in the Vatican. If the IMF were to get that phone, we could blow open the global arms trade.” 

Odinson whistled low, mind already working with the facts he already knew about the case, and what was being put before him. “So the target is the phone?” 

“I'm not finished.” Coulson said, but took a sip of his beer and discreetly checked their surroundings again. “Now, I know you've read Laufey's file, but what do you know about his family?” 

“He's got three sons and a deceased wife. There was trouble with one son, but I didn't read that far. It didn't seem terribly relevant.” Odinson scratched at his beard, recalling everything he could from the file read over a year ago.

“His first two sons, Helblindi and Byleistr, are essentially chips off of the old block. His third son, Loki, is a different story. Everything you need to know about Loki is on the flash drive.” Coulson reached into his inside breast pocket and pulled out his phone, clicking a few buttons and sliding it across the table. The small screen displayed a young man, likely a few years younger than Odinson himself, with longish dark hair pushed back off his face and a smile that only ever means trouble. “We've got a man inside, and intel suggests that Loki is...dissatisfied. With his family's affairs. His personnel file also says that he is a bit of a trickster. He likes to play pranks and mess with people. Intel suggests that early this morning, his latest prank was to steal his fathers highly encoded and guarded mobile phone. He has since left his fathers estate in Britain and is en route to a gala event to be held tomorrow evening in Venice, hosted by Tony Stark.”

“The weapons manufacturer.”

“Yes.” Coulson nodded, pulling back his phone and tucking it away in his pocket. “The chances that we are the only people who know about the theft are infinitesimal. And if there was ever going to be group of people more motivated to take that mobile-”

“The kind of people who show up to a weapons manufacturer's gala would be it.” Odinson nodded, running over the facts. “So you want me to go into a vipers nest, after a specific viper, to retirever a viper egg.” 

“The primary target is the mobile, but Loki is an asset, and one who will likely require protection. Your mission, Thor Odinson, should you choose to accept it, is to infiltrate the gala, kidnap Loki Laufeyson and secure Farbauti Laufeyson's mobile phone. Should you or any members of your team be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow all knowledge of you or your mission.” Coulson sat back and folded his hands together on the table. 

“Mission accepted.” Thor spoke quickly. He didn't even have to consider it. He was IMF's finest agent, and he wouldn't see such a delicate mission in the hands of anyone else.

“Given the tight time constraints, your team has already been chosen for you. There is a plane waiting for you at the airfield 20 miles out. You are to board the plane and meet up with Agents Barton, Romanov, Banner and Rogers in Port Marghera at 0400, and cross the Ponte della Liberta to Venice proper, set up as Safehouse Iota L490. The rest of the briefing is on the flash drive.” Coulson reached across the table, and Thor shook his hand firmly. “Godspeed, Agent.” and with that, he stood and left, leaving Thor alone with his thoughts of a dangerous phone, a wayward son and a rapidly closing window of time.


End file.
